


Grand Finale

by acedemiro



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: (eventually) - Freeform, Academia, Alternate Timelines, Alternate Universe, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bisexual Character, Bisexual Male Character, Bullying, Canon Het Relationship, Canon-Typical Violence, Dad Spy, Domestic, Drama, Drama & Romance, Established Relationship, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Family Drama, Gay Bar, Gay Sex, Kissing, M/M, Men Crying, Multi, Non-Canon Relationship, Not Beta Read, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Third Person, Past Child Abuse, Past Domestic Violence, Past Relationship(s), Past Spy/Scout's Mother, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon, Protectiveness, Questioning, Sad, Scout's Mother is named, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, Sexuality Crisis, Sniper is named, Sort of? - Freeform, Spy is named, Stepdad Sniper, Swearing, Tags Are Hard, Tags Contain Spoilers, Tags May Change, Teen Angst, What-If, if you don't want to read smut I'll point out where it begins and ends so you can skip it, im trying to tag as many things as possible, it counts as both? i am not good at tagging things im sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2018-10-20 01:42:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10652349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acedemiro/pseuds/acedemiro
Summary: About sixteen years too late, Antoine tries to uphold his promise to be a father, whether Jeremy accepts him or not. Meanwhile, his former coworker Rick is trying to establish a relationship with him.





	1. Unhappy Returns

**Author's Note:**

> AU where the Gravel Wars took place years beforehand and Spy made his money by the time Scout turned 16. There'll be a heavy emphasis on father/son drama, Scout's Insecurity™ and Spy's Guilt™. Edited myself, but couldn't find a beta reader. Named after the song by Studio Killers (I can't post a link, but it's easy to find on Youtube).
> 
> Short summary is short, I'll probably update or add onto it later. Probably should have waited until I'm not tired to upload this. It is... 4:21 am right now. Huh. I start work in four hours.
> 
> Well, thanks for checking out this fic, hope you enjoy it!

It had been many years since Antoine thought he could keep a promise to anyone, but here he was, doing just that.  

Sixteen years a little too late, but at least he was trying. 

Antoine had disappeared; he never had to return. He could have stayed missing, he could have been anywhere in the world except the one place he could never return to. Maybe it would have been better for everyone that way, if he just lived the rest of his life acting like he hadn't fucked up, like he didn't feel even a little guilty for his cowardice.  

Odds are, Cassandra wasn't the only woman in the world he'd accidentally knocked up, but their son Jeremy was definitely the only child of his he knows about. 

'Being a good father before he's an adult' sounded simple. Antoine didn't even hesitate to make that promise when he had to leave Cassandra the second time for a job in Moscow, just weeks after Jeremy's birth. Antoine wasn't seen again by either of them for another decade and a half. By the time he finally made his way back to Boston to return to his sort-of-family, Cassandra had moved on to other men and Jeremy had dismissed him as another deadbeat that never really loved his ma, just like all his brothers' dads. 

Antoine never once expected anyone to be overjoyed by his return, so he wasn't disappointed. Somewhat surprised, but not disappointed. Cassandra had cried, Jeremy mostly stared at the man in disbelief, trying to find resemblance to himself and having a hard time doing so with that mask on. After she composed herself, Cassandra confirmed that yes, the strange man was her son's father. Disbelief and denial quickly turned into anger and hate and Antoine only had a split second to register that Jeremy just punched him, a solid left hook to the cheek.  

Cassandra practically screamed at Jeremy to stop before he could even swing a second time. Antoine wasn't sure if he'd just been caught off-guard or if Jeremy really knew how to punch, but the strike made him fall on his ass and he was dizzy for a few seconds. Jeremy didn't even wait for Antoine to get up or speak or for his mother to demand he apologize before he left the house, not coming back until the early hours of the morning with new bruises and an approaching hangover. He was hoping Antoine would be gone again by the time he came back, never to be seen again. 

Jeremy came in the house quietly so as not to wake anyone. All the lights were off, which meant not even his brothers Kyler and Mitchell (the former in high school, the latter surprisingly in college) were up late cramming. Normally on a night—or morning—like this, he'd shut the door slowly, lock it, pause to listen if that little sound woke anyone, slip out of his shoes, then crash on the sofa in the living room, because going up the creaky stairs to the room he shared with his brothers would certainly wake them up. Usually, the worst case scenario is that he gets an earful from his mother the next morning. In this case scenario, plopping down on the couch made him smack his forehead on Antoine's kneecap, and they both swore loud enough that Jeremy's efforts had been in vain. 

"What the hell—Who the hell--!?" Jeremy shouted as he immediately shot up and jumped back away from the sofa into a corner, fumbling with the lamp there to turn it on. Once again, his shock was replaced with anger when he saw who it was sitting on the sofa, holding and rubbing his sore knee. "Why the hell were you just sitting there!?" 

Antoine didn't answer immediately. He picked up the lit cigarette he'd dropped, frowning at the small burn it left in the sofa before putting it out in the ashtray on the coffee table. "Smoking." was all he said. 

"That's bullshit, you were waiting up on me, weren'tcha? What, did you expect me to talk to you after all that?" Jeremy snapped. Antoine wasn't sure exactly what the boy meant by 'all that'. Was he just referring to from the moment he punched Antoine to now, or all the years Antoine had been absent? Not that it really mattered. 

"No, not really." Antoine admitted, already lighting another cigarette. "I wanted to see what time you would come home." 

"Don't say that." Jeremy said, going over to snatch the cigarette from him to put it out. "Don't talk about me like you're my actual dad and don't talk about this place like it's your home too, 'cause it ain't. How long have you been smoking down here? You think just 'cause ma smokes it means she doesn't care if people smoke in the house?" Jeremy went on as he began opening windows. "You really had to go and make the whole place smell like smoke, didn'tcha? Ma's gonna kill ya when she wakes up with her whole house smelling like smoke." 

"Jeremy." 

Both father and son turned their heads to the staircase as Cassandra reached the bottom. "Close those damn windows, it's freezing outside." She said, wrapping her housecoat around herself tighter. It wasn't that cold this late into spring, but no one pointed that out. 

"Ma, this jackass' been smoking in here for hours, he--" 

"I said he could smoke in here, now close those windows and get your ass to bed." Cassandra snapped at him. 

Jeremy scowled, but did as he was told, shutting the windows before going upstairs. At the top of the staircase stood Kyler and Mitchell, too curious about what the hell just happened to beat Jeremy for waking them up at such an ungodly hour. As soon as all was quiet again, Cassandra sat down next to Antoine on the couch, holding out her hand in silence before Antoine gave her a cigarette and lit it for her. 

"You said you were cutting back." Antoine said after a long minute. 

"I was." Cassandra said, leaning back a little as she smoked. "I was down to a cigarette a day, then you came back." 

"Sorry." He said quietly. 

"No more sorry's, please..." She sighed. "You didn't think he'd be all excited to see you, did ya?" 

"I'm not sure what I expected. Not a punch, certainly." Antoine said with a chuckle. "A good punch, at that." 

"Antoine..." She looked at him. "Actually, lift up your mask for a sec, I wanna see how bad the bruise is." She said. 

"You saw me put ice on it, it's fine." Antoine tried to reassure her; not that she was genuinely concerned. He was fine, she just never stopped trying to see his real face, not since the moment they first met. Some things never changed. 

"Well... lemme see anyway." She insisted, reaching out for his face only for him to flinch away, stiffening. They stared at each other, the tension in the air becoming thicker than ever. Before, all those years ago, Antoine was just as anxious about anyone seeing his face, even her. She knew not to ever physically pull the mask up, only ever teasing him about it and asking him to take it off, to which he'd always refuse. He could trust her to touch his face, his neck, his mask. But whatever they had before was gone now, and Cassandra slowly lowered her hand. Some things had to change after all. "I'm sorry." She whispered. 

It took a moment for Antoine to compose himself, and even then he didn't truly relax. Still, he gave her a grin like always. "No more sorry's." He said. 

Cassandra wanted to hug him just then, but settled for holding his gloved hand and resting her head on his shoulder instead. Antoine didn't pull away this time. 

- 

After a mere two and a half hours of sleep, Jeremy's alarm clock blared on the pillow next to him, and he nearly broke the damn thing trying to hit the snooze button. Groaning, he tried to really wake himself up to actually turn the clock off before it could ring again. Thursday morning, seven o'clock. Kyler and Mitchell would already have left for their classes, which meant he'd have the bathroom all to himself and nobody would try to bum some of his breakfast. 

Monday through Friday, Jeremy got up any time between five and seven. Usually five, when he wanted to go for a run before work, but once or twice he'd sleep in a little, especially if he was out the night before. On the weekends, he really had to be careful about getting up early to run, because his brothers didn't appreciate being woken up before noon. 

Jeremy dropped down from his top bunk before leaving the shared bedroom and walking slowly to the bathroom, trying to avoid the real creaky floorboards. As soon as Kyler and Mitchell were gone for class, Cassandra went back to sleep, and Jeremy had no intention of waking her; she didn't start her job until ten on Thursdays. 

He slipped out of his boxers before standing in the tub and turning the shower head on, flinching as the cold water hit him but not moving away from it. He was in and out in ten minutes, just a quick clean; no time to relax under the water, work starts in an hour. 

Honestly, sometimes he missed school. Parts of school, anyway. Being on both the track and baseball teams and being as good-looking as he was guaranteed him popularity, attention, and therefore a ton of friends (whether they really gave a shit about him was unknown). A ton of enemies, too. Older kids who were jealous of him, even his own teammates who were jealous of him, kids from other schools and other teams; a fuck ton of kids his age or older that relished the thought of beating the living shit out of him only to get their asses handed to them because Jeremy had been fighting since he learned how to tell time. 

Of course, there was a lot about school he didn't miss at all. The schoolwork itself was the big one. Jeremy did okay in some subjects. P.E. was easy, even the health bookwork was easy. History and geography were a breeze, too. Art was okay, he didn't like being told what to draw and what not to draw and argued with the teacher a lot, but at least it was the only class he was allowed to draw in. Science and math were hard, really hard, but at least he passed those classes after retaking them in the summer. English was another matter entirely. He'd failed the actual class, the summer class, and by the middle of tenth grade after being held back a year he decided to drop out altogether. He struggled to read, which was a big deal in high school, so obviously school just wasn't for him. He could be the best-looking most athletic kid in school, but that didn't mean shit if he was stupid. 

And fuck, did his family constantly remind him of that. 

His brothers had always been bullies to him, to each other, to everyone else they knew. The only person in the world they never treated like shit was their mother. The only times they really got along were when it came to making Cassandra happy or when they shared a common enemy, especially the latter. They were violent, and the one thing they all had in common was that they loved to fight. They were often avoided in the streets; they were that well known in the area for their ruthlessness. A fight with them usually meant a fight to the death, and since no one really cared if another thug in the street went missing, there was never any issue if things got out of hand. And you messed with one of them, you messed with all of them… most of the time. Jeremy had stop going to them to deal with school bullies years ago, they always told him to deal with them himself, to man up. But if it was ever somebody a few grades higher up or a whole group of assholes, then he could get at least a couple of his brothers on his side. 

But aside from that, his brothers were usually the group of assholes themselves. What his mother called horseplay Jeremy interpreted as getting the shit beaten out of him. If he ever took ‘someone else’s’ seconds at dinner, accidentally woke anybody too early (and then waking everyone else up because one jackass couldn’t bitch at him quiet enough), or just happened to be close enough while they were pissed off enough, he’d have no choice but to defend himself. The scuffle always resulted in bruises, a few times in some broken bones, and all the more reason to get out of the house and be real quiet when doing so. 

But the bullying wasn’t limited to physical abuse, no, it was verbal too. Jeremy could take some name-calling and trash talk, and sometimes him and his brothers would roast each other for fun, but sometimes words just cut too deep. But what could he do, tell them to quit it? Ignore them? No, that never worked. All he could do was try to retort and try not to cry. He didn’t understand why his brothers and sometimes even his mother felt the need to tease him relentlessly about his shitty grades, his weight (before he lost it), how he'll never make any money as an artist and how useless his talent is, how he’s just a freeloader (until he recently got a job), just how stupid he was compared to the rest of his brothers who at least managed to finish high school, how lazy and unmotivated he is to have dropped out, how ashamed they all are of the weakest, dumbest and least useful member of the family. 

Jeremy wouldn’t admit it, but half of the choices he makes have to do with whether or not his family approves of them. He rarely draws anymore, he hasn’t gone more than two days without running or working out in almost a decade, he smokes, and as soon as he turns 18 he plans on enlisting to join the military; just like his oldest and fourth oldest brothers Brian and Danny. If he can’t even finish high school, his only real options are to work a couple part-time jobs or enlist, and he figures the military can’t be anywhere near as bad as dealing with shitty customers in retail or slaving over a grill at a greasy fast food joint… or being a pizza. 

Dressing up as a pizza, that is. He works as a mascot and a sign-spinner for Crazy Tony's Overpriced Used Cars and Underrated Pizzeria. It probably wasn't the worst job he could have; he mostly just stood around holding up a sign. Unfortunately, it was obvious that the bizarre combination used car dealership and pizzeria wouldn't stay in business for too long, especially not with shitty deals like the pickle lover's supreme deal. But it was easy work, and it paid alright, so he couldn't complain much outside of the fact his brothers teased him for it. 

Jeremy left the bathroom as soon as he finished in the shower, dripping wet as he made it back to his room. Living with nine other people his whole life, it was super rare he ever got the chance to not wear clothes, so he tended to take advantage of every moment. His mother had her room in the basement, and while she could hear creaks and talking all the way down there, it's not like she had x-ray vision. Unfortunately, there were a lot of kids in the area that liked peeking through windows, and there have been a few occasions where someone had seen him making breakfast in the nude. 

So, he slipped into one of his nicer pair of track pants and grabbed the first clean shirt he saw that was his (the pizza costume was kept at work, obviously) before heading down to the kitchen… and thanked himself for deciding not to take a chance at staying nude for the moment. 

At the small dining table in the middle of the kitchen, sitting in the nicest of nine chairs, was the bastard Jeremy remembered punching last night. 

“Good morning.” Antoine said without looking up from the paper, and Jeremy bristled in anger. Antoine should have left, disappeared like he did years and years ago. He wasn’t supposed to be here, in Jeremy’s home, at Jeremy’s dining table, reading Jeremy’s paper (and he could tell the asshole wasn’t even really interested in reading it at all, it was just a distraction or something), eating pancakes Jeremy… well, no, he didn't make the pancakes, that was probably his mother. 

“Why the hell are you still here?” Jeremy snapped at him. 

“Because your mother was kind enough to let me stay.” 

“Well when are you gonna leave? I’m already sick of you. I want nothing to do with you, got that?” 

Antoine stopped skimming the article he was on to look at Jeremy. Really look at him. The boy seemed to resemble Cassandra more than him, he thought. “Cassandra is letting me stay one more night. By tomorrow morning, my things will be moved to my new apartment.” 

“Apartment where? Don’t tell me you’re living close now…” 

“Only four blocks away.” 

Jeremy swore. 

“Jeremy.” Antoine spoke to him as calmly as he could. “I know I’ve been a horrible father. You have every right to hate me for it, but…” Antoine paused, thinking about his next words carefully. He rarely ever has talks like this with anyone, if at all. As far as he knew, Jeremy was his only son, and he abandoned him. Now that work wasn’t in the way of things and his freedom wasn’t threatened (at least that’s what he told himself) he felt that he could finally make up for all the lost years, even if Jeremy wasn’t quite ready for it yet.  

“I’m only asking for a chance.” Antoine said. “I know I left and was absent for most of your life, but I’m here now. Just let me make it up to you.” 

There was a long silence between them. Antoine couldn’t remember a time in his life he felt more anxious than right now, staring as he waited for a response from Jeremy, who seemed to be considering his words. 

Finally, he broke the silence. 

“You wanna make it all up to me, huh?” Jeremy asked quietly. 

“I do.” Antoine said, his initial dread turning into hope. 

Jeremy approached him, reached out, and grabbed a pancake from his plate before taking a bite out if it, then talked with his mouth full, “You wanna make it up to me then pay ma everything you owe her in child support money. Don’t even think about acting like you got none, not with that fancy suit and car. After you do that, you can fuck right off. You got that?” Jeremy said, finishing the pancake and grabbing the last one from his plate before leaving. “And don’t smoke in the house.” he reminded him before leaving for work. 

Once again, Antoine was left alone with nothing but silence. It was taking every ounce of willpower not to light a cigarette right now.  

Antoine closed the newspaper neatly, then stood to take his plate to the sink before rolling up his sleeves to wash all the dishes. He tried to focus on the task alone, but couldn’t stop his mind from wandering, from thinking, and as a result, couldn’t stop himself from getting a little emotional.  

No one could say he didn’t try now, but it did little to ease the guilt. Was it really just that? Did he only come back to Boston after all these years to amend things, to keep a promise? Or is he grasping at straws and trying to regain the one thing he never thought he had a right to have? 

It must just be guilt. Antoine is a spy; he lies all the time, deception is his specialty, but even he felt wrong about not keeping a promise with a old lover for their child. He really did just feel guilty about that. Spy or not, he was only human. 

Then again, there were only a couple of things that could make him cry, though he'd never admit it. He didn’t think guilt was one of them since he rarely felt it, but regardless, he started tearing up for the first time in a long time.


	2. Prying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Antoine tries to get to know Jeremy the only way he knows how to, Cassandra continues to try and mend the father-son relationship that never existed, and Jeremy is still pissed off enough about the situation to punch somebody.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meant to update this sooner, but got carried away and had to cut the chapter down a little. Also made a plot hole and had to rewrite a chunk of this. Once again, I still have a bad habit of editing/posting in the wee hours of the morning :'D Not beta read, but enjoy!

By the time Cassandra got up to get ready for work Antoine had already done the dishes and left them out to dry, dusted all but her room, mopped the floors in the kitchen and living room, and was starting to put said dishes away just as Cassandra came into the kitchen. She thanked him and told him he didn’t have to do all that for letting him stay the night, that she was just happy he was here at all. 

Antoine didn’t tell her that wasn’t the reason he did the chores. He just had to keep himself busy. Being busy with chores or any other activity meant his mind was focused on a task at hand and he wasn’t as alone with his thoughts. Not only that, but when he was occupied with housework he just felt… safe somehow. Like no one could possibly be upset with him if he was cleaning. It was a reflex; if there was even a threat of emotional harm, he felt compelled to clean or busy himself with other tasks. He couldn’t explain it, but he’s been that way since childhood. 

After putting the dishes away, Antoine smoked in the living room until Cassandra was about to leave for work. He followed her out and offered her a ride as she locked the front door; she still had the same old blue P15S Deluxe she had before she even met Antoine and nowadays it often broke down, sometimes on her way to and from work. She gladly accepted his offer. 

"You remember where the Medical Center is?" She asked him as they got in his car; a brand new red Ferrari 250 GTO. 

"Not really, no." He admitted. He hasn't been there in about 16 years, after all. 

"Alright, just start by making a left at the end of the street there." She told him, pointing him in the right direction. 

For the first few minutes of the ride, they were mostly silent, Cassandra just telling him where and when to turn. Not even halfway there, she started really talking. 

"Did Jeremy really tell you what I think he told you, or was that all just a weird dream? 'Cause I think I was half awake when he talked to you this morning." She said. 

Antoine hesitated. He really didn't want to relive this morning by talking about it, as minor as the conversation seemed. But, he couldn't avoid the topic now. "It's nothing to worry about." He said. "He simply hates me, and with good reason. I wouldn't expect anything else." 

"Antoine..." 

"He wasn't wrong, Cassandra." Antoine went on, quieter. "I left the two of you to fend for yourselves. The least I could have done was send you money. I always wanted to come back sooner, but... no, that's no excuse. I've always had money, even before my last job, I don't know why I n--" 

"Antoine." Cassandra interrupted him. "You don't owe me nothing, got it? As long as you keep being Jeremy's father and making it up to _him_ , that's all that matters to me. Turn right at the lights." 

Antoine did as she said, turning at the next intersection without saying a word. 

"Don't beat yourself up over it, okay?" She continued. "Yeah, Jeremy's got all the reason to be pissed at you, but you're gonna change that. I know you can make up for all that time lost, without 'paying back child support' or whatever. And don't you even think about giving Jeremy cash to make him happy, he's just gonna blow it all on cigarettes or something." She said. 

"I understand." Antoine said with a sigh before pulling in to the parking lot of the hospital. "But really, if you need money, I--" 

"Antoine, not only do my three youngest boys help pay the bills, but I'm a nurse. I really don't need the extra money." She said, looking at him, then smiled a little. "But I do appreciate it, anyway." 

"Right... How long have you been a nurse?" Antoine asked. He knew Cassandra had taken odd jobs between pregnancies, losing them all as soon as she was pregnant again. She must have been saving money for years to go back to school before becoming a nurse. Money he could have given her, but she didn't want it and didn't want him to be so hung up about that. 

"Oh, about ten years? Little over ten years now? When Jeremy was two and just before Danny moved out—you remember Danny, right? Anyway, when Jeremy was two, I went to MCPHS' School of Nursing. There was a ton of demand for nurses back then, I got a job not even a month after I graduated, can you believe that? Been working at this exact hospital since, too. Speaking of work, could you pick up Jeremy after work tomorrow, take him to your place for the weekend? I know you still gotta unpack, but... well hey, maybe he can help." 

Antoine couldn't help but stare at her for a moment before replying. "Yes, I can do that." He said as he pulled up into the hospital parking lot. Cassandra told him where the car dealership and pizzeria—yes, two in one—was and when Jeremy got off work before thanking him again for the ride and going into the hospital. 

Antoine watched her go in before leaving, still thinking about how Cassandra went from working in retail or in the odd office to being an actual nurse. And not even with a simple college degree; she went to the oldest university for healthcare in the state. He knew Cassandra was smarter than most gave her credit for; single mothers were always looked down upon and assumed to be stupid. But with eight sons, he never thought she'd have the time or money to pursue a higher education. He shouldn't be surprised; Cassandra was nothing if not practical. 

Antoine left the hospital parking lot and made his way back to Cassandra's. She was right, he still needed to unpack, but that could wait. 

He parked beside the curb before getting out and going into the narrow space between Cassandra's house and a neighbour's. It was tight enough that anyone could chimney it, but to make things easier, someone had the bright idea to stick some extra bricks along the wall, right up to the window of the boys' room. There was really no doubt at least one of them would sneak out every night. 

He made it to the window in seconds and opened it; of course it was left unlocked, made it easier to sneak back inside. 

He started searching the bedroom. The house was empty and would continue to be empty for hours; it was the perfect time to snoop around. He could have just asked Cassandra about the things Jeremy liked, but she probably knew as much as he did; she was too busy to keep up with all of her sons' interests. He could have asked Jeremy himself, but he doubted the boy would want to talk to him about anything outside of mandatory small talk and child support money. 

That, and breaking in and rifling through others' possessions was a habit of his that refused to die. He did the same to all his teammates while he was working for RED, too. 

The room was the only real bedroom in the house, but it was still small for eight boys to be sharing, even if half of those boys were now men that had moved out. Four bunk beds stuffed in the four corners of the room, leaving just enough floor space for a few hampers and a couple bedside tables. Under the beds were some of the things Antoine expected to find; dirty magazines, old clothes, a couple forgotten toys, a pack of cigarettes, a small bag of weed poorly concealed beneath a sweater under what he assumed was Kyler's bed.  

After checking under the beds, he checked in the sheets and pillowcases too, mostly finding more dirty magazines, but also photos. One bed that hadn't been used in ages had a family photo in the pillow case. Another bed that hadn't been used in a while had some photos of the same girl, most of them being close-ups of her private areas. Aside from the photos, the only interesting thing he could find in the beds was a single comic under a pillow; simply titled 'The FLASH' in an obnoxious font. 

The only personal touches the room held were some posters. On the walls in each corner, the brothers had put up posters by their beds. Some were pin-up girls, some were of baseball players, one corner was almost entirely posters of Tom Jones and that superhero again, 'The Flash'. 

Antoine determined that the bed with the comic and the excessive posters was Jeremy's bed. It was one of the only three beds that had been used recently, and was the only one without cigarette burns in the mattress. Kyler and Mitchell were a couple years too old for comics, anyway. 

So, super heroes (especially 'The Flash') and Tom Jones. Those are two things Jeremy liked. Antoine had no idea what to do with this information. 

He continued looking around, eventually coming across the one closet the brothers shared. It was surprisingly empty, save for a few outfits hung up and a box on the floor. 

A box with holes. 

Getting on his knees on the floor, Antoine took out his butterfly knife before slowly opening the box... and didn't find a wild animal as he'd expected. Instead, the box had some newspaper on the bottom, a small bowl of water, another bowl with sunflower seeds, and a much larger hole in a corner that was a clear sign something had nibbled its way through the box. 

He put the lid back on and left the closet and the room, looking around to make sure everything was the same as he'd left it. He wondered if he should tell Cassandra about the box, but thought better of it; he didn't want anyone to know he'd been here. 

But he wasn't done snooping yet. 

He'd already seen enough of the kitchen and living room, and he knew all that was in the basement was Cassandra's room and the laundry room. He'd looked through Cassandra's room before, and even though it's been over a decade since they were together, he felt he knew enough about her. Too much about her. No, the only room he wanted to look at now was the storage room. 

Just down the hall from the brothers' bedroom was what was supposed to be the second bedroom, but had been used as a storage room since Cassandra moved in. Antoine understood exactly why she preferred the basement to the room up here: more privacy. Upon entering the storage room, Antoine found it had become more than just a storage room over the years. There were twice as many boxes in here than when he remembered seeing it last, but they were all shoved onto one side of the room, and in the remaining space was a desk and a sewing machine. 

The sewing machine was on a separate table for some reason, and Antoine immediately went in to inspect the desk further. It was old, but in decent condition, save for the ink stains on the surface. Cassandra always wrote her letters on the kitchen table, and Kyler and Mitchell did their homework in their room, as far as he knew. It didn't look like the desk had been used in a while, but it was worth the look. There were still six drawers to check, after all. 

To Antoine's disappointment, four of the six drawers were just empty. The fifth one, the top left drawer, had various pencils, pens, inkpots, erasers and rulers in it. The sixth one, to the top left, was locked. It had to be one of the easiest locks he'd ever picked. 

The first thing he saw when he opened the drawer was a stack of sketchbooks, each about a hundred pages thick. He took them out carefully and laid them out over the desk to look at each of them. There were five in all, and even without the years written in ink on the covers it was obvious which were older and which were newer. But that wasn’t nearly as interesting as the fact that each one also had Jeremy's name written on them. 

Antoine pulled out the chair of the desk and took a seat before opening the first sketch book, ‘Jeremy, 1956’. The first drawing was of Cassandra’s house; almost wedged between two equally old houses, unpainted bricks that looked less rugged in gray-scale, a garden occupying most of the lawn that didn’t exist outside of this picture anymore, a cracked window that had since been fixed, an oddly detailed screen door. The lines weren’t straight and there was almost no shading, but it wasn’t half bad for an eleven or twelve year-old. 

The rest of the sketch book was mostly the same sort of drawings; some cityscape or objects done entirely in pencil. The change from the beginning of the sketchbook to the end was obvious; within a year Jeremy had improved a ton. Antoine closed the sketchbook and set it back in the drawer carefully as it had been on the bottom of stack, when he felt something at the back of the drawer, and he pulled them out. 

Baseball cards. Hundreds of them, all held together in rubber bands. Some were in transparent sleeves, others were left unprotected. He didn't spend too long looking at them and left them as he found them before returning his attention to the sketchbooks. 

The next sketchbook had the years 1957-1958. Antoine didn't understand why one sketchbook was filled in a year while the next took two years, but he almost immediately realized. The drawings were more complicated, and they weren't all just pencil; some were inked, some were done in water colours. Jeremy had been experimenting with both new mediums and subjects; rather than just drawing landscapes and still life, he'd started drawing people and animals as well, mostly superheroes. 

The next sketchbook was labelled 1958-1959 and started almost the same as the previous had ended; with some superheroes done in watercolour. As Antoine looked through the book, the style of people drawings looked more realistic, and superheroes turned into baseball players. There were also more pencil sketches that were quicker and not as detailed, mostly of people that appeared to be young teenagers—classmates, probably. There was even the odd sketch of one of his brothers. But the best drawing was right at the end; a detailed pencil drawing of Cassandra and all eight of her sons, including a much younger Jeremy. He must have redrawn an old photo. Antoine wondered if Cassandra had seen it, or any of the other drawings, for that matter. 

The next sketchbook, to Antoine's surprise, was incomplete. It read '1960-' on the front and was over halfway filled. There was more still life in this sketchbook, mostly in ink. A lot of cars and buildings and cityscape. There were more people, too, in both pencil and ink. These drawings of people were more detailed, and some were nude. It seemed that Jeremy had gone to actual figure drawing classes, unless his school allowed nude models. After a while, Antoine noticed a recurring model, a young girl with long dark hair who appeared to be around Jeremy's age. Each drawing with her was simply called 'Heather' with a date in the bottom right-hand corner, unlike every other drawing that was untitled and undated. There were dozens of drawings of this Heather. Was she a close friend to Jeremy that didn't mind modelling for him? A girlfriend? The last drawing of her was done in September, over half a year ago. Maybe they had a falling out. Maybe Antoine was thinking about it too much. 

Little over halfway through, just after the last drawing of Heather, Antoine saw a series of drawings that... unnerved him a little. 

Jeremy had gone from drawing nothing but a girl his age to nothing but an older man. Of course it wasn't the first man he'd drawn, Jeremy had drawn naked men before, but never the same more than once. All the drawings of this man were nude, and they were dated but had no titles or names. The man depicted looked familiar, sickeningly familiar, but Antoine couldn't pinpoint who it was. It was one thing for Jeremy to draw a female friend or girlfriend his age over and over again, but some middle-aged man? Antoine didn't even know what to think of that. 

Sighing a little, Antoine put the three sketchbooks back in the drawer before finally taking a look at the last one. After the fourth sketchbook was left incomplete, why would Jeremy start a new one? The last drawing was just little over a month ago, why not fill up that sketch book first? 

Antoine's questions were (mostly) answered when he opened the book. The first several pages appeared to be some sort of story board done in pencil on both sides of each sheet. The pages that followed, almost half the sketchbook, was a comic. Each page was done in pencil, save for the first few that had been inked. Antoine could barely make out Jeremy's messy handwriting, but from what he could tell, the comic was about a boy that could turn into a monster and used this ability to fight crime. It sounded like a typical superhero story, but being the first comic he'd ever read, Antoine didn't know that. He didn't know a thing about panel composition or storytelling through comics, but he knew art, and he knew Jeremy was a great artist. Judging from the first inked pages of the comic, Jeremy had put a lot of love into it, and it showed. He had talent, anyone could see that.  

Looking through the half-finished comic, the first comic he'd ever read, Antoine felt immense pride. But it was a different kind of pride, not the same way he'd feel about having the most expensive possessions or dominating an enemy back when he worked for RED. No, this was the first time he could remember feeling genuinely proud for someone else, and in that moment he realized just why so many people insisted that parenthood was worth the hassle. People didn't just take care of kids for accidentally making them, they did it because of the feelings nurturing someone from infancy to adulthood could bring. They did it because there was nothing better than witnessing your own flesh and blood accomplish something you could never hope to do. 

Maybe Antoine was getting a little too emotional over some drawings and an unfinished comic, but for the first time since he returned to Boston, he was genuinely glad he decided to keep his promise. 

After looking through the comic one more time, he put the sketchbooks back in the drawer, leaving everything in the room exactly as it was before leaving the house altogether the way he came. He still had unpacking to do. 

- 

Jeremy didn’t get home until late again. Not super early in the morning like today, but he didn’t exactly head home right after work either. He jogged a bit, bumped into some old friends from school and smoked with them, got in a scuffle with another kid from school he bumped into on the way home; jackass from one of his English classes that used to mimic him when he stuttered and struggled to read aloud in class. Jeremy got a black eye and scraped knuckles, but it was worth it to make the other kid cry like a little bitch. 

By the time Jeremy got home, his brothers were in their room cramming for exams, and his mother was unwinding in the living room, watching the news on their little old black and white TV. Jeremy went straight to the kitchen, hoping to find leftovers for him in the fridge, disappointed when he found nothing. Kyler or Mitchell must’ve eaten it on him. 

“In the oven.” Cassandra called to him. 

Jeremy shifted to said appliance and opened it. Lo and behold; leftover pork chops, mashed potatoes, and peas on a plate gone lukewarm. “Thanks ma,” he called back as he put the plate in the microwave. 

Cassandra looked over at him, his black eye clearly visible even from the couch. “What’s the other guy look like?” 

“Broken arm.” Jeremy said. 

“Did he attack you first?” Cassandra asked. Back when she only had one or two boys, maybe she would have found it shocking and even a little frightening for them to get in actual fist fights in the streets, but by the time she had four kids, she was used to seeing them coming home bruised and scraped up, sometimes even with a broken limb or a bullet wound of all things. As long as they were alive and not getting in trouble with any gangs or the police, she wasn’t too worried, not anymore. Especially not since she learned how to treat such injuries herself. 

“Old bully from school, that’s all.” Jeremy stopped the microwave a second early to avoid the blaring beeping that followed and took his plate with a fork to the living room, sitting on the other end of the couch as he started eating. 

“What, did he used to beat you?” 

“Nah, just made fun of me.” Jeremy said, and was unsurprised by his mother’s scoff. Name-calling, verbal bullying, that was nothing. Sticks and stones, and all that. Still, the little punk deserved a broken arm anyway. 

The two sat in silence, the only sounds filling the space between them being the muffled audio of the local news station and Jeremy's fork touching the plate. 

“You know you got no choice but to talk to Antoine, right?” Cassandra spoke up. 

“We did talk. Had a great talk before I went to work today.” He said. 

“Y’know the walls are thin, Jeremy. I heard everything you said. When you go to Antoine’s place tomorrow night, you are gonna apolo—“ 

“What?!” Jeremy snapped, interrupting her. Before she could scold him for it, he continued. “I ain’t going to his place, why do you want me to go to his place?” 

“We made a little agreement. Every weekend until you’re eighteen, you’re gonna be at his place. You never do anything on the weekends anyway, so don’t even think about coming up with excuses not to go.” She said, then went on before he could argue more. “I know you hate him for leaving and being gone all those years, I ain’t exactly happy about that either. But hell, at least he’s back now and trying to get to know you. He’s not as bad a person you think he is, just give him a chance, will ya?” 

“Why’s it gotta be until I’m 18? Why not 17?”  

“Because I said so. Get your bag ready before you go to bed, he’s gonna pick you up from work tomorrow.” 

“Hell no.” he said, getting up to go wash his empty plate. Last thing he needed was for the asshole to see him in his stupid pizza costume at work. Not that he gave a crap what the old man thought of him, but the fewer people who saw him in it, the better. 

“It wasn’t a suggestion, and don’t you dare talk to me like that.” She snapped. 

"Ma," Jeremy started, but paused. Was this really worth arguing with her? No, it wasn't. Nothing was worth that. She won every argument anyway. He sighed and turned the water off, leaving the plate on the rack to dry. "Why do you want me to try to get along with him, anyway? He left us. He left you. Why do you care?" 

More silence. Jeremy stared at his mother, she seemed to be looking at the TV but had that gaze like she was staring at something farther away. He almost just said goodnight and went upstairs when she finally spoke up. 

"I would've loved to meet my own dad, y'know." 

'Well, I'm not you.' Jeremy wanted to say, but didn't. He knew his ma meant well, but even if she thought otherwise, she didn't always know best. Not all the time. Jeremy didn't need a dad; he had seven older brothers that already made him feel like shit. As far as he knew, Cassandra had a couple older sisters and a brother; weird aunts and an uncle that he hadn't heard from in years. His grandmother died years before he was born, and he never wondered for a second why he never heard of his grandfather until now. He used to wonder what happened to his dad, why he disappeared, who he was. But he stopped caring years ago. He had only just accepted the fact that he may never know who his father was when the man shoved his way back into his life, unwelcomed. 

"It's not like he left as soon as he found out I was pregnant." Cassandra went on. "It was weeks after you were born. He said he'd be back a lot sooner, but..." 

She sighed a little. 

"Why'd he leave in the first place?" Jeremy asked. "If he didn't go just 'cause of... me... then why leave at all?" 

"Something to do with work. He had a job in Russia, I think. I thought he was dead until he started sending me letters." Cassandra said. 

Jeremy didn't ask anymore questions. He was only half-curious, and he had a feeling not even his mother knew what Antoine had been thinking all those years ago. He told her that yes, fine, he'll stay at Antoine's place for the weekends from now on. Anything to make her happy. He really didn't want to be picked up from work tomorrow, but he had no choice in the matter. 

Jeremy wished his mother goodnight before quietly heading upstairs to his shared bedroom. Kyler and Mitchell were still up, but not sitting in their beds and reading. They were standing by the closet, whispering when Jeremy came in, and they stopped to look at him. 

"...what?" Jeremy asked, standing awkwardly in the doorway, ready to bolt if needed. 

Kyler just gestured for him to come look, and Jeremy did, slowly approaching before seeing the box on the floor with a hole chewed through it. 

"Well, shit." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said before, I'm an aspiring author, and criticism is greatly appreciated! Thanks for reading!


	3. Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Antoine picks up Jeremy from work and is sick of his shit before they even get home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, it's been a while since I updated this. Good thing I said it'd be updated irregularly, hahaha... ha... You'd think I'd have more time to write in the summer, but that's not the case with high-expectations parents like mine. That aside, I've also been going back and forth between writing this chapter and the fourth, since I had a lot more fun writing four. That, and I was in a slump for a bit. Lack of motivation. But that doesn't matter, since I finally finished this! And like I said, chapter four is nearly done, I plan on posting it this week.
> 
> I even got a beta reader now! Thanks to AndeliaMaddock for helping me with this one!

Antoine had pulled up to the bizarre combination car dealership and pizzeria known as Crazy Tony's Overpriced Used Cars and Underrated Pizzeria just a few minutes before Jeremy's shift was supposed to end. He barely made it; he was so busy unpacking things and buying furniture that he almost forgot he even had to get Jeremy from work. While he waited for Jeremy to come out, he lit a new cigarette using the nearly extinguished one while he glanced over the place from his seat. 

Half of the building was old with faded brickwork and an illegible sign, the other half was brand new and was mostly glass windows. The older building served as the pizzeria, judging by the smoke seeping from an open window, and the dealership had a large parking lot full of cars, none of them younger than five years and some had chipped paint or cracked windshields. The whole place looked and felt shady, even for a car dealership… and pizzeria. 

Jeremy left from the newer building and scowled when he saw the Ferrari parked away from the other cars. He didn’t forget he was being picked up to stay at Antoine’s for the weekend—that’s why he had a backpack with clothes and other necessities—but he had hoped Antoine would change his mind or something and just disappear. He wasn't gone yet, but Jeremy could make it happen. If not, he could put up with him. He’s put up with worse men pretending to be a doting father. 

Jeremy wordlessly tossed his bag in the backseat before sitting in the passenger seat next to Antoine and shutting the door. “I’m only going with you 'cause ma says I have to. I still don’t like you.” He told him. 

“I could say the same.” Antoine teased before pulling out of the lot and driving away. Before Jeremy could offer a rebuttal, Antoine asked him a question that caught him off guard; “What are you doing there, anyway?” 

“What? What do you mean what am I doing… where?” Jeremy stared at him, confused. 

“At that car dealership and pizzeria. What do you do?” Antoine asked. Jeremy was probably too young to sell cars, even if he was a bit of a fast-talker. He was aggressive, too, maybe he really  _was_  selling cars. Or maybe he just did the paperwork there… no, he wasn’t cut out for that, probably. Maybe he worked in the pizzeria even though he just came out of the dealership half of the building. Making pizza wasn’t that difficult, right? Or he could be the cashier there. He couldn’t be a delivery boy, he didn’t have his own car and probably didn't know how to drive yet. 

“Oh. None of your business.” Jeremy said, leaning back in his seat. “Gimme a cigarette,” He said. He hadn’t had a single smoke all day. Actually, when WAS the last time he had a cigarette? Must have been forever ago, because just thinking about it made him crave one more. 

“Non.” 

“No? Why the hell not? What, you think I’m too young to smoke? 'Cause I’ve been smoking since I was six, that was like, ten years ago. Been smoking for ten years, and my whole family smokes, too.” Jeremy insisted. That was only half-true; he'd had his first cigarette when he was six, sure, but didn't really start smoking until about three years ago. 

“Since you were  _six_ _?”_  Antoine asked, surprised. Even he hadn’t started smoking until he was eleven or twelve. 

“Yeah, Chase and Caden gave me my first cigarette 'cause they thought it was funny when I coughed. I don’t cough no more though,” He admitted. Wait, why was he even telling him all this? He shouldn’t be telling Antoine anything. Guess he missed having more people to talk to. 

“Fine. Tell me what you do for a living and I will give you a cigarette.” 

Oh, now he was bargaining. Well, two can play at that. 

“It’s gonna take a lot more than one cigarette for me to tell you that. Two cigarettes, and you tell me what  _you_  do for a living.” Jeremy said. He knew nothing about what Antoine did, and he didn’t really care much, but he was a bit curious. Just a bit. Only because the guy always wore that dumb mask and his job apparently took him all the way to Russia once, according to his ma. 

“Two cigarettes to know what you do for a living. That is all.” Antoine said. He didn’t even know if he  _should_  tell Jeremy about his line of work. It was obvious to most people who saw him that whatever he did was somewhat unconventional, but aside from his first name and maybe some of the history he had with Cassandra, Jeremy knew nothing about him. Maybe Jeremy deserved to know some things, or maybe Antoine should at least lie to satisfy any curiosity he had, but... 

"Okay, how about no cigarettes, and you take that stupid mask off?" 

Well, that didn't take long at all. 

"I'm not taking my mask off, and I never will, so don't bother asking again." Antoine said in a serious but oddly dark tone of voice. 

"...So you just wear that thing 24/7? Has ma ever seen you without it? Has  _anyone_  ever seen you without it? Why don't you take it off, what've you got to hide? Why are you hiding whatever it is you've got to hide? What's the point of hiding your face if nobody's ever gonna see it? Like, you just make yourself more recognizable by wearing that mask all the time, don'tcha? And don't you think you owe m--" 

"Jeremy,  _enough."_  Antoine had suddenly swerved the car into the parking lot outside an apartment building, making Jeremy nearly hit his head on the window. "My mask is always on. No one has ever seen my face, and no one ever will. Do not ask about it again." He nearly snapped at him before getting out of the car, using all of his willpower to not slam the door. 

Jeremy scowled at him and got out next, muttering a 'bullshit' and grabbing his bag from the back seat before heading to the door of the building first. It was one of the nicer buildings in the area, definitely one of the newest; that much was obvious from the clean windows and smooth, graffiti-free brick walls. Still, wasn't nearly as expensive or fancy as Jeremy thought it'd be, for a man who always wore a suit and drove a new sports car. 

Antoine said nothing as he used a card key to unlock the front door before holding it for Jeremy—out of habit rather than courtesy. Jeremy took a moment to look around the lobby before heading to the elevator; the unstained carpet and freshly painted walls accompanied by new furniture were an unfamiliar sight to him.  

Antoine pressed the button for the 12th floor—all the way at the top. The elevator doors shut and they were left in an enclosed space in silence. Antoine glanced at Jeremy, who was leaning back and forward on the balls of his feet. There were very few people who could make Antoine lose his composure, let alone his temper, but Jeremy was so annoying he'd managed to do both after talking for just five minutes, if that.  

And yet, Antoine did see a bit of Cassandra in him. Jeremy had her soft jawline and small but bright blue eyes, her no-nonsense attitude, her determination and the ability to go on and on about a topic with such interest. But somehow, he loved all those things about Cassandra and hated all of those things about Jeremy. 

The elevator stopped once it reached the top and the doors opened. Jeremy stepped out first but waited for Antoine to lead the way. Antoine was renting the suite 1207, right at the end of the corridor. He unlocked the door and stepped in, taking off his jacket and leaving it on the back of a chair. Jeremy followed him in, closing the door behind him. 

Like the rest of the building, the suite was fairly new and clean, albeit plain. The walls were painted cream with beige carpet and the furniture was a deep forest brown to match. Very neutral, and also very boring to Jeremy. Just beyond the door was a closet to the right, a wall to the left to separate the door from the living and dining area. In the living room there was a loveseat and an armchair facing an artificial fireplace (Antoine couldn't get a real fireplace in a building like this), with a couple full bookshelves and an odd painting on the wall depicting a bowl of fruit stabbed with a knife. Antoine had owned another parody painting depicting himself on a horse crossing the alps much like one of the original 'Napoleon Crossing the Alps' by Jacques-Louis David, but Antoine suspected it was stolen by his former team mate Jane Doe.  

The dining area just off of the living area had a simple polished set of six dark wooden chairs and a table accompanied by a matching China cabinet filled with different types of knives. Jeremy was already thinking about taking them out and messing around with them when Antoine wasn't paying attention, maybe even 'borrowing' the sweet black one with flowers etched into it.  

Just past the dining area was the kitchen. It was small and had the necessities, not much else to say about it. The fridge was half-full with fresh food Antoine paid a neighbour to get for him while he was busy buying more important things. He had no idea how to cook, but... well, he'd have to learn eventually. 

"Your room is the first door on the right. Do not enter my room." Antoine said, going into the kitchen. He could try to make... something. Nothing would be as good as Cassandra's cooking, anyway. 

"Wait, what?" Jeremy stopped looking at the knife cabinet to look at him. "I get my own room?" 

"Well I'm not letting you sleep in  _my_  room. Or on my sofa." Antoine said. He'd almost forgotten that Jeremy had shared a room with anywhere from two to seven other boys his entire life; of course he'd be excited to have his own. 

Jeremy ignored his comment and went into the room. Like the rest of the apartment, it was somewhat plain; cream walls, beige carpet, dark furniture. There was a window above his twin bed that had been pushed parallel against the wall, a small bedside table next to it on the left with a lamp, an empty bookshelf next to that, an empty dresser on the right-side wall next to a desk and chair, and a closet next to the door. The room was just less than half the size of his actual bedroom, but it was more space than he'd ever had to himself. It almost made him want to stay here. Almost. 

Jeremy set his bag down on the bed and opened it. He didn't need to take his clothes out, but for now he took out his tooth brush and comb. He turned to go put them in the bathroom, but stopped when he faced the closet. It was probably empty, but he wanted to look in it anyway. He opened the door and found it really was empty, save for the large box on the floor. He put his comb and tooth brush down to open it and his jaw dropped. 

The box was jam-packed with merchandise of two people; The Flash and Tom Jones. There were several action and collectable figures, a few shirts, a Tom Jones jacket, some posters, a record of Tom Jones' greatest hits, several issues of The Flash (that Jeremy had already read but didn't own, since he'd always buy a comic and return it for half the price after reading it), some post cards and a deck of Tom Jones themed playing cards that he didn't even know existed. 

Antoine had looked over everything in the fridge and pantry and had no idea what he could even make with what he had. Now that he thought about it, he'd never cooked a single thing in his life; after he'd left home, he either stole or bought food that was ready to eat unless he was lucky enough to have someone to cook for him. Maybe he'd ask Jeremy what he wanted and... well, try. Antoine left the kitchen to go to his room, pausing at the doorway. 

Jeremy was already decorating his room with everything that was in the box—things Antoine almost forgot he'd bought for him in hopes of winning his affection, or at least making him tolerate him. Jeremy had leaned the comic issues up on the shelf to display the covers next to a few Flash figurines, the Tom Jones figures and post cards were on top of the dresser in order, the shirts were stuck in the top drawers of the dresser and left to hang, the jacket was draped over the back of the desk chair, the playing cards and record were just on the bed and Jeremy was unrolling one of the posters when he saw him. 

"Hey, do you have any thumbtacks or tape?" He asked.  

Antoine had seen a few emotions from Jeremy since he'd met him, mostly anger and contempt. This was the first time he was seeing the boy genuinely excited about anything. Sure, he wasn't rambling on like he usually would according to Cassandra, but Antoine could see it in his eyes. 

"I don't." Antoine said, noticing the slightest change in Jeremy's expression as he was momentarily disappointed. "Remind me to buy some tape later. The walls are concrete, don't try to nail anything into them." 

"Did you really buy all this stuff for me?" Jeremy asked. 

"Why else would I leave it in your closet?" Antoine asked. "Your room was bare, I thought you'd want to... decorate it. The only interests you have that I know of are Tom Jones and 'The Flash'." He admitted. 

Jeremy glanced down at the poster of Tom Jones he was holding. He used to have one like it, one of the first posters he'd ever had, but his brother Caden had sold it to a friend of his that also liked Tom Jones. He didn't think he'd ever get the poster again. But... Antoine only bought him all this stuff to try to win him over, and he was only doing that to win his mother over or something. Well, the old man could waste all the money he wanted to; it wasn't going to work. 

"Yeah, well... that's all you need to know about me. Don't expect me to play 20 questions with you or something," Jeremy said, rolling up the poster again and leaving it on his bed. "So, what's for dinner?" He asked, nudging him aside to go into the kitchen. Jeremy looked into the fridge and immediately saw ground beef and buns and knew what he was having. 

"I was going to ask what you wanted." Antoine said, following him. 

"You got a barbeque?" Jeremy asked, taking out the ground beef, buns and an onion. 

"No, they're prohibited in this building." 

"Are you freaking kidding me? Why would you get stuff for burgers if you can't even use a barbeque??" 

Actually, that was a good question. Seems that Antoine's new neighbour wasn't thinking when he bought all this food. 

"Whatever," Jeremy closed the fridge and looked into the cupboards. "I  _guess_  we could fry them..." He said, taking out a frying pan. 

"So... you know how to cook?" Antoine asked. 

"Of course I know how to cook, you think my ma's got time to cook every night? And it's not like my brothers would cook for me, we all just cook for ourselves most of the time." Jeremy said, taking out a mixing bowl. Antoine had more kitchen items than he remembered buying. "What, do /you/ know how to cook?" Jeremy asked. 

"Of course I do." He lied. 

"Alright, then you make the burgers." Jeremy said, handing him the pack of ground beef. 

"Wait--" 

"You don't know how to cook." 

"I--" 

"You've never cooked a single thing before, have you?" Jeremy asked with an amused grin. He looked proud of himself, like he'd won a contest that didn't exist. 

"...No, I have not. Your point?" 

"You're like a hundred-year-old man and you can't even cook. What, did you think you were gonna have a wife by now to do all the cooking for you? Jeez..." Jeremy started washing his hands in the sink. "I dunno what ma ever saw in you. I'm just making my own burger, you can fend for yourself." 

"Fine.  _Enjoy."_  Antoine said, setting the beef down on the counter before going into the living room. 

Jeremy made quick work of the ingredients, slicing and mincing the onion before adding some of it to the beef with salt and pepper, mixing it up into patties, frying them... He didn't get to make burgers often like this since Cassandra just bought the cheap frozen patties, and he wasn't exactly a chef (and never planned on being one), but he did enjoy making them. There was something about being able to make food from scratch that gave the boy a sense of control and self-satisfaction that he hadn't felt since he was winning ribbons at track in school. 

In the end, he fried a couple extra patties for the hell of it. Nowhere near as good as barbequed, but they would do. There were only onions, mushrooms and cheese in the fridge (not even ketchup!) but that was fine. Jeremy took his plate of three burgers to the table and looked over at Antoine who was reading some magazine. 

"I used up all the meat and made too many burgers, you can have the rest." He said. 

Antoine thought for a moment before setting his magazine down. He was going to wait until Jeremy was asleep before getting any food, but he was too hungry now to wait. He went into the kitchen and assembled a burger for himself, no cheese or anything, just the patty and buns. He'd only ever had a burger once or twice before, but it was essentially just the meat and buns, right? 

Antoine sat across from Jeremy at the table to eat. The sandwich was dry, but didn't taste terrible. He ate it slowly, so slowly that Jeremy had finished his three by the time Antoine finished the one. 

"You're welcome," Jeremy said, getting up to take his own plate to the sink. Without cleaning up (he cooked, Antoine could clean) he headed for the door. "I'll be back in a few hours or something." He said before opening it. 

"What? Where are you going?" 

"Uh, none of your business? Seeya." Jeremy said quickly before leaving. He was used to going out with no more than a 'bye' from whoever else was home, if that, and it wouldn't be any different while he was here. 

Well, Antoine wasn't just going to take that. Leaving his own plate in the sink, Antoine put his jacket back on and waited a minute before leaving the suite as well. He headed downstairs and out the building, looking around, relieved that he hadn't already lost Jeremy. The boy was already halfway down the block, walking as if he was just out for a stroll. 

Antoine had no idea where he was going or if he really would be back within a few hours, but he was going to find out. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading my fic, hope you liked it! If you have a moment, I'd really appreciate any feedback you may have, since I'm trying to improve as a writer!
> 
> Next update will be soon!


	4. Combat Zone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Antoine follows Jeremy around town, because he's both a spy and a 'caring' father. What happens next may surprise you!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ladies, gents and people of unspecified genders, I give you the quickest update this fic will ever see.
> 
> I actually tried to do some research before writing this thing, and I think it turned out pretty well. Thanks again to AndeliaMaddock for beta reading!

Antoine followed Jeremy for almost an hour. Where could he be going that was so far from home? And why didn’t he just take a taxi instead? Antoine sure as hell would have taken a taxi, his feet were killing him already. 

Antoine had no idea where Jeremy was going, but he noticed the area had changed dramatically after several blocks. Cassandra's house was in a poorer area, filled with pothole-ridden streets and bored kids getting into fights because they dropped out and couldn’t find work. The neighborhood was old and drug-ridden, the only redemption it had were the few nice homes that mothers and wives had taken great care to make beautiful, or at least liveable. 

This side of town still had those bored kids getting in fights and doing drugs, but that’s where the similarities ended. While the area was old, the buildings weren’t as well-kept as the average house. Every inch was shady, and not just because many streetlights were broken. Everywhere there was a brawl with bruised thugs with red sunken eyes; dealers with smirks on their faces passing a bag off to nervous customers; hookers on their knees in the dim alleyways. 

Despite the seediness of it all, it was obvious the people here tried to make it look great; neon lights and signs all over like some pseudo Las Vegas. There were strip clubs, x-rated theatres, adult book stores, clubs and bars, and one particular street was full of gay night clubs and cabarets. 

Jeremy turned onto said street. 

Antoine had a suspicion that one of the gay-friendly spots here was Jeremy’s destination. It wasn’t a surprise, he’d suspected Jeremy wasn’t straight after seeing all those drawings he made of that naked man. Maybe he was jumping to conclusions, but everything else added up: Jeremy was likely gay or bisexual. 

Antoine didn’t have an issue with it at all, being into both men and women himself, but he could understand why Jeremy didn’t want anyone to know. Even with a whole street dedicated to being a gay hotspot, intolerance was high in the rest of the city, and Antoine could only imagine how Jeremy’s brothers would treat him if they ever found out. It was understandable that he’d keep it a secret from Antoine, too. 

Antoine continued to follow Jeremy until the boy finally stopped walking to stand at the back of a short line. Antoine stayed several yards behind before crossing the street when no cars were coming by to get a better look at the building Jeremy was waiting to get into. 

It was a nightclub called The Galaxy. The building looked as old as the rest, but was clearly recently bought by new owners and cleaned up. The neon sign had flickering stars, the windows were painted black with more glowing stars and there was a line of a dozen people outside with one bouncer at the door. 

It wasn’t long before Jeremy was at the front of the line, taking out his ID to show to the bouncer. Obviously it was a fake since Jeremy was clearly too young to be allowed in, but it must have been a convincing fake, as the bouncer let him in. 

Something told Antoine that he should leave now. He already knew more than he was supposed to know, and felt like Jeremy had been here before. Something was telling him that this was enough. 

Whatever that something was, he didn’t like it. He was a spy first and anything else second. Invasion of privacy was his job, and even when he wasn’t on the job, it was almost instinctual to find out anything and everything about everyone he came across. It might not have been right as a parent, but, well… he didn’t think he was ever cut out for parenting anyway. Not good parenting, at least. 

Besides, any parent would at least want to make sure their kid was safe, right? It wasn’t all about spying. 

So, Antoine crossed the street again and went into the alley between the The Galaxy and some video store. He could have gone to the line and gotten through with one of his own fake IDs, but the bouncer might ask him to take his mask off or he might unintentionally bring attention to himself. Obviously climbing in through the window to the men’s room was easier. 

The bathroom was brightly lit compared to the dark street, and Antoine had to squint until his eyes adjusted. The bathroom was surprisingly clean with lavender painted walls and a white linoleum floor, save for the stalls. They were riddled with questionable stains and used condoms littering the floor in them. Antoine could see two people occupying one of the stalls, one standing with his back against the wall and the other on his knees in front of him. He ignored them and left the bathroom to enter the rest of the club. 

The club was dark, illuminated by more neon lights and spotlights. In the middle of it all was a dance floor lit from below, full of people dancing to  _Twistin_ _' The Night Away._ All around the dance floor were tables with some booths at the walls, a bar in the opposite corner of the bathrooms, and a stage at the back. The floor was carpeted, black with starry swirls and the odd stains from spilled drinks. The walls were black, but had bright neon stars and planets on them. The club was huge, bigger than Antoine thought it would be, and had an upstairs that probably held more tables. Unlike most of the bars and clubs in the area, it wasn't strictly for just gay men or lesbians but both; there were gay men and women, transgender and cisgender alike. 

It only took a minute for Antoine to spot Jeremy. He was sitting at the bar, looking around, alone. 

It was odd to see Jeremy sitting alone. Antoine hadn’t known him for long, but from what he could tell, Jeremy would already have started talking to someone or sat with a random group of strangers just for the sake of having company. He hadn’t even ordered a drink yet (and Antoine knew he drank, if just because he sought his brothers' approval, like with smoking). All Antoine could assume is that Jeremy is waiting for someone, maybe a boyfriend. So, Antoine stayed by the bathroom door, watching and waiting as well. 

Not even five minutes later, someone showed up to sit next to Jeremy, making the boy's expression light up, but Antoine’s stomach drop. The man was older than Jeremy, probably about twice his age. Antoine had seen him before, not too long ago... 

The man from Jeremy’s nude drawings. There was no mistaking it. It had to be him. Same hair, same face, same body type under a pair of pinstripe dress pants, a white collared shirt and vest. 

And immediately, looking at the man in the flesh and what he was wearing, Antoine knew why he looked so familiar on paper. 

The BLU Spy. The enemy spy. His counterpart and rival from the war, once a dear friend, then a playful rival, then a lover, then his opponent and enemy. The one man Antoine knew the most, who knew  _hi_ _m_ the most, who he’d hoped to never see or hear from again after the war… was dating his son. 

Lucien was dating Jeremy. 

In that moment, Antoine didn’t care for remaining hidden and stepped into the lights, hellbent on getting that evil bastard away from— 

A flash. 

Antoine stopped. Another flash. The lights above were flickering on and off for a few moments, and suddenly everyone moved around in a way that looked rehearsed. Men and women switched to dance or talk with strangers of the opposite sex, the drag queens and transgender people went into the bathrooms or back stage as if to hide, only a few tried to blend into the rest of the crowd. 

Antoine returned his gaze to Jeremy, who was now talking to a woman who’d just been flirting with the woman on the other side of her… and Lucien was nowhere to be seen. What the hell was going on? 

The answer to Antoine’s question came in through the front door. Three cops, two of which already had batons out. They didn’t even say anything to the crowd, just looked over the club and its patrons. This must be a regular thing, police coming in looking to fill a quota and everyone pretending to be straight to avoid getting drugs planted on them by bigoted cops.  

The officers split up, one going to check the men’s room (ignoring the one masked man in the building for some reason), the second went to the change room back stage, and the third walked right up to Jeremy.  _Fuck._  

Antoine watched for, deciding not to interfere yet. He had to wonder if this place was notorious for letting in teenagers since Jeremy was one of a few here. The boy showed the officer his ID and Antoine couldn’t hear what they were saying over the music still blaring. 

The cop that went into the bathroom emerged with two young men in cuffs, one trying to pull his pants up. Unfortunately for the cops, public indecency wasn’t enough to shut a place down, so they remained.  

Then the other officer emerged from the change room behind the stage, a small bag of  _something_  in hand as he struggled to talk into a walkie talkie. The second he was in sight, everyone scattered. It was obvious he had that baggy coming in, no one was stupid enough to bring any drugs into a gay club that was targeted by cops all the time. But that didn't matter, now the cops had full reason to arrest anybody they didn’t like. It wasn’t right, but that’s just how it was. 

Antoine tried to keep his eye on Jeremy, who ran past him into the women’s bathroom before Antoine could try to grab him. Antoine weaved through the retreating crowd to follow after him, and by the time he opened the door to the bathroom, he found Lucien (who had been hiding in a stall?) giving Jeremy a boost out the window. As soon as Jeremy was outside, Antoine ran and grabbed Lucien by the waist as he was climbing up to pull him down and shove him to the floor. Caught off guard, Lucien was easily pinned to the floor, Antoine straddling his stomach and impulsively gripping his throat. 

“What are you doing here?” Antoine hissed at him.  

Lucien first thought a cop had grabbed him and was about to kill him, then he almost relaxed when he realized who pinned him, and he grinned. “Could ask… the same…” Lucien coughed a little, and Antoine actually loosened his grip a little to let him speak, mouth open to ask another question when Lucien spoke first. “Careful… respawn does not work out here.” 

“I know it doesn’t work out here, you fils de p--“ Antoine stopped when he felt something poke his stomach and spared a moment to glance down. He might have his hand on Lucien's throat, but the ex-BLU had a knife to his gut. 

“You could get off of me and we could both flee from the authorities, or we could kill each other right here and now. Either way, it would be like 'old times', non?” Lucien chuckled. 

Again before Antoine could speak there was another interruption coming in through the window. 

“What’s the freaking hold u—“ Jeremy snapped, halfway through the window when he froze, staring down at his father choking Lucien. “What the fuck are you doing?!” he shouted, about to climb in the rest of the way when the bathroom door slammed open, a cop coming in and pulling out his taser. 

Lucien shoved Antoine off and at the cop while he scrambled to climb out the window, Jeremy helping him, the cop almost tripping over Antoine as he tried getting up. The cop grabbed Antoine’s arm but he twisted and pulled away, kicking him before trying to hurry out the window himself. To his surprise, the cop quickly recovered and grabbed his ankle just as he was halfway out, and he braced himself for an imminent shock. 

But it never came. On the other side, Jeremy (and even Lucien) both pulled Antoine out and down before they started running down the alley between the club and the video store. Antoine stared at them leaving for a moment, a bit shocked. Police sirens stirred him from his stupor and he got up to run after them, following them through a few more alleys and backstreets before they stopped. Antoine finally caught up to them, both him and the Lucien out of breath while Jeremy had barely broken a sweat. 

“They’ve got cops all over the block…” Jeremy said, trying to think of a way out of this. There was no doubt the police would go for them; one cop had questioned him about his age and his father had gone and kicked another. The other cops would’ve gotten their descriptions by now. 

“You think we can only wait them out?” Lucien asked the boy, earning a look from Antoine. Lucien actually thought Jeremy knew a thing about running from the police? ...Well, Jeremy probably did, but he actually thought the boy knew more than either of them did about running from authorities? 

“Yeah, got no choice. We can hide on a roof or in a dumpster.” Jeremy said. One look from Lucien was all he needed. “I saw a fire escape back this way, come on,” he said, leading them down another alley. 

They were silent for the moment, stepping lightly. Sure enough, one of the few residential buildings had a fire escape, and the ladder was even down already. Jeremy headed up first, followed by Lucien then Antoine. Before climbing all the way to the roof, Antoine raised the ladder so no cops would think to follow. Once at the top of the escape, Lucien gave Jeremy a boost so he could climb onto the roof, then the boy helped the two spies up.  

The three of them went to the middle of the rooftop by an air duct, away from the edges where they might be seen. Lucien and Jeremy sat next to each other, leaning back against it while Antoine stood in front of them, looking down at them. Lucien took out some cigarettes, giving one to Jeremy and even lighting it for him. Antoine wasn't surprised when he was offered one, too. Either Lucien was being polite to 'an old friend' or it was a cyanide cigarette meant to kill him. Antoine declined the offer, taking out his own cigarettes. 

They just stayed there in silence until the sirens had become distant, and they no longer heard shouting or footsteps nearby. They relaxed a little, enough to finally break the silence. 

"Thought they were never gonna go away..." Jeremy said, putting out his cigarette. 

"We need to pick safer places to meet, cher." Lucien said, lighting himself a second cigarette. 

_"Cher?"_  Antoine snapped. 

Just like that, things were tense again. Jeremy sat up straighter, staring up at his father. "What the hell are you doing here, anyway? Did you follow me all the way out here?" He asked. 

"Of course I did, you refused to tell me where you were going. It's a good thing I followed you, too." Antoine said, reaching into his coat to take out his pistol. Lucien was just as quick, taking out his own gun from somewhere in his pants, the two spies aiming at each other at the same time. 

"Jesus Christ, would y'two put those away?!" Jeremy stood up and between them. "Last thing we need's a cop to hear a gunshot right now!" 

"Jeremy, move." 

"No. Put it away, both of ya." Jeremy demanded, crossing his arms. 

Another moment of silent tension, then slowly, both Antoine and Lucien put their guns away, their eyes never leaving each other. 

"Jeremy," Antoine spoke again, "How do you know this man?" 

"I was going to ask the same thing." Lucien said, his attention on the boy in front of him now. 

"Are you freaking kidding me? How do  _you two_  know each other??" Jeremy snapped. "I-- Y'know what, fine, whatever-- Lucien, this asshole is my father. Apparently. Maybe. And... Antoine," Jeremy said awkwardly, "Seems like you already know 'im, but this's Lucien, he's a friend of mine, alright? Now go home or something, I'll be home later." 

"Absolutely not." Antoine said, grabbing Jeremy's wrist. "You're coming home right now." 

Jeremy immediately twisted his wrist to pull away faster than Antoine could react to. "What, you think just 'cause you might be my real dad that you can tell me what to do? Fuck off, I don't care what you think; I'm sticking with Lucien for now." 

"Is he  _really_  your father?" Lucien asked, clearly amused. He's known Antoine for many years, more than he'd like to admit, and was still his friend when Antoine started dating Cassandra. Their friendship didn't last long after that. Lucien wouldn't have been in touch with him long enough to find out if Cassandra had become pregnant. Knowing Antoine, it'd be no surprise if he really did father and abandon a child. If that child happened to be Jeremy, then Lucien had all the more reason to hate his ex-best-friend/lover. 

"That's what my ma says." Jeremy admitted. "But I don't care. Now I already said how I know you two, how do  _you_  both know each other?" 

Antoine and Lucien looked at each other. 

"We were co-workers." Antoine lied. Well, it was only a half-lie. 

"Not really," Lucien said. "We've known each other since we were your age. Before that, even." 

"So you  _do_  know how young he is." Antoine said. 

"Je ne fous pas ton fils."   
   
"Oh my God,  _please_ don't start talking in French." Jeremy pleaded. "Look, I don't even really care how or why you two know each other, but... Antoine, he's my friend, so leave him the fuck alone." 

"You're a terrible liar, Jeremy." Antoine said. 

"I'm not lying!" 

"If he's 'just a friend', why meet him at a gay club? Why be so secretive about knowing him? And why the hell would you have made countless drawings of him without clothes?" 

Jeremy and Lucien said nothing. Jeremy was supposed to have that sketchbook locked away somewhere where no one would ever see it. Lucien knew the boy was somewhat insecure about his art since his family saw no value in it, and he knew Jeremy would have hidden all of his drawing pads and pencils somewhere his brothers wouldn't find them. Somewhere maybe only Antoine would think to look. 

"You..." Jeremy hissed, "You fucking looked at my sketchbooks?" 

"That's not what matters." Antoine grabbed Jeremy's arm and pulled him aside to look down at Lucien. "I don't know what you're trying to use Jeremy for, but if I ever see you near him agai--" 

Antoine was interrupted when Jeremy pulled him closer before punching him hard in the cheek, making Antoine lose a tooth. Jeremy kicked him down and lunged for him to continue beating the fuck out of him. How fucking  _dare_  he look through his things, look through his  _sketchbooks,_  the most private things any artist owns. 

Lucien stayed seated where he was and watched them, smoking. He wouldn't interfere unless Antoine was on the brink of death, since Jeremy might regret killing him. Maybe. If only because Cassandra still liked him. Lucien didn't know the whole story, but Jeremy had started it earlier in the bar, saying the biggest asshole he'd ever met just returned to his life. Lucien first thought he was referring to his oldest brother Brian getting out of prison or Chase coming back from Vietnam. He found the true story funnier, even more so as he watched Antoine getting beaten by Jeremy. Strange how he wasn't fighting back, though. Antoine wasn't one to strike a child—neither was Lucien, for that matter—but he was a coward who would always run from a fight if he had to. With the way things were going, Lucien wouldn't be surprised if he had to help Jeremy hide another body. 

Lucien startled when he heard someone sneeze behind him. Antoine and Jeremy were too occupied to notice, but there was  _definitely_  someone hiding behind the vent behind him. Lucien took out his knife and slowly stood, ready to kill whoever it was on the other side, then froze. 

Sitting with his back against the vent and looking up at Lucien was the second former RED Lucien had seen today. 

"...Hello, Lucien." 

"Good evening, Rick."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enter the Sniper.
> 
> And that's the fourth chapter. I'm gonna be honest though, the next one may take a while. Up until now I had everything planned out but now I just have random scenes I wanna write out but no idea how to put them all together lol. I wouldn't be opposed to taking suggestions either, actually.
> 
> Oh, and... I really hope that French line is correct lol. I asked a few friends who know some French and they said it was alright. I know many TF2 fics are riddled with poor translations by monolinguals like myself but I really wanted to throw it in there. It translates to "I'm not fucking your son", btw
> 
> Once again thanks for reading, hope you're enjoying the story!


	5. Humiliation Round

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Antoine gets what he deserves, Rick wants to be anywhere but here, Jeremy is upset and Lucien is Lucien.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I never said I would update regularly. Lots of stuff has been happening and I've even started writing an original novel. I'm sorry to have kept you all waiting for so long, and I sincerely hope this chapter was worth the wait. I'll try to update more frequently in the future, though. I love this fic. Unfortunately I lost the doc with the whole fic lined out and I forgot how I want it to end.
> 
> Anyway, I want to thank everyone who's commented so far. You guys keep me writing. I'm glad you're all enjoying this fic as much as I am!

That evening brought a series of events that Lucien couldn’t have predicted. What was supposed to be a night at a new club with Jeremy turned into an awkward reunion with two of his former lovers while hiding from the authorities. Even worse, one of his exes turned out to be Jeremy’s father.

“So,” Lucien leaned over the air duct as he started playing with his knife, flicking it open and closed with different tricks he made look so simple. “What are you doing here?”

Sure Antoine had followed Jeremy around, as any father… as any spy would, but Rick had no reason to be here. Well, he was up here to hide from the police like they were, but he had no reason to be here in the city. No reason that Lucien knew of. Unless the assassin had planned on killing the spy. If so, he’s seen this coming for a while anyway.

“None of your business, spook.” Rick stood up slowly and looked over to where a child was beating the life out of his former co-worker. “Who’s he?”

“That would be Antoine’s son, Jeremy. He’s trying to kill him.” Lucien said, his attention returning to the other two. Antoine was looking quite dazed now, a black eye forming among other bruises while Jeremy let out all of his frustrations like his father was a punching bag.

“His _son?”_ Rick looked between the two of them. It was hard to see any resemblance between them while Antoine wore his mask. Still, it wasn’t a surprise that Antoine had a child; just that he was anywhere near said child right now. “Shouldn’t we stop them?”

“Hiding a corpse is more fun than taking someone to a hospital.”

“I know, but do you really want to let the kid kill his own dad?” Rick asked. From the looks of it their relationship obviously wasn’t healthy, but the kid would probably regret this anyway. Even if it is Antoine he’s about to kill.

Lucien sighed. He’d prefer to let Jeremy continue beating Antoine, even if it meant the bastard’s death. He’s had it coming for years. _“Fine,_ but I’m not taking anyone to the hospital.”

Lucien approached the two of them, grabbed Jeremy under his arms and pulled him off of Antoine. The boy was too enraged right now to listen to anything he was told.  
  
Jeremy was kicking and squirming, trying to get away to continue beating the shit out of his father, but Lucien firmly held him where he was and tried to talk to him.

“Jeremy,” Lucien said, “He’s learned his lesson. If you keep this up, he’ll probably die.”

“That’s the fuckin’ idea!” Jeremy yelled and Lucien released one arm to cover his mouth.

Antoine was hardly conscious now, but he could hear what they were saying, and it made his heart heavy. The boy was right; he deserved to die. If being murdered by his own son was enough to redeem anything, he would let it happen. He was already letting it happen. He wanted to be punished for everything he’s ever done.

“Jeremy.” Lucien took on the same tone of voice Cassandra did when she was fed up with his shit. “The police could still be nearby. Calm down.”

While Lucien attempted to subdue Jeremy, Rick stepped over to Antoine, looking down at him. The spy was definitely missing some teeth, but they were fakes anyway. Both of his eyes were blackened, his nose was broken and bleeding, his lip was bloody and swollen.  
  
Rick had seen Antoine in a state like this a few times before. Usually he’d finish him off and send him to respawn for a speedy recovery, but that wasn’t an option here. He almost felt like shooting him anyway. 

“Didn’t think we’d meet again. Not out here.” Rick said. He leaned down and took Antoine’s arm before carefully helping him up, holding him when he stumbled. “Yeah, definitely gotta get you to a hospital.”

 _“No.”_ Jeremy and Antoine snapped in unison.

Jeremy wanted Antoine to suffer. Antoine didn’t like hospital rooms.

“You’re both idiots.” Lucien rolled his eyes, finally letting go of Jeremy when the boy stopped struggling. “Jeremy, it doesn’t matter how much you hate him, your mother is going to kill you for this. And Antoine…” He paused to look at him, to relish how defeated he appeared. “You really shouldn’t have looked through Jeremy’s art.”

“Exactly!” Jeremy snapped. “You know what, you shouldn’t’ve come back here in the first place. I’d prefer it if you were dead. At least I could’ve pretended my dad wasn’t a prick.”

With that, Jeremy went over to the fire escape and went down, leaving the three men in silence.

“So… I guess he takes after his mum?” Rick asked quietly.

“Yes.”

“Definitely.”

“Right…” Rick looked at Antoine. “Mate, you really gotta get to a hospital.”

“Non.” Antoine muttered. He was light-headed and could see a lot of blood on his shirt, but fuck, he hated hospitals. He’d rather take his chances mending himself.

“Antoine,” Lucien said, “As hilarious as it is seeing you like this, and as little as I care about you, Rick is right. If you’re so hellbent on avoiding a hospital, go see Cassandra.”

Oh, right, Cassandra was a nurse. Antoine should go to a hospital anyway; Cassandra would probably drag him to a hospital if she had to. She’d help stop the bleeding and give him some ice or something, but she couldn’t do anything about his nose, he didn’t think. But... Antoine really didn’t want to have the talk where he told her how he got in such a state.

“Tell her you were jumped.” Lucien said. “She won’t ask questions.”

At least, according to Jeremy she wouldn’t. Him and his brothers often came home with fresh bruises, sprains, maybe the odd broken bone, sometimes even a knife or gunshot wound. Rather than pay for a hospital visit, she’d treat them herself, sometimes saving their lives. She knew all her sons were violent and got in fights, but she never pushed them to tell her the details. If she pressed for answers, they’d hide their wounds and try to heal on their own. It was easier for everyone if she didn’t ask questions.

“...fine.” Antoine pulled away from Rick and tried to head over to the fire escape, only for Lucien to grab his arm when he nearly stumbled off the side of the building.

“Rick, you take him.” Lucien shoved Antoine towards the sniper, who caught him from falling on his face. “He can give you directions.” he said before sauntering over to the fire escape.

“And where the hell are you going?” Rick asked, trying to help Antoine stand up again.  
  
“I’m going to follow Jeremy and make sure he doesn’t get himself killed.” Lucien said. The boy had a thing for starting fights when he was irritated, and though Lucien knew he could handle himself, the area was probably still infested with cops and he didn’t want Jeremy to get arrested again. “You can assure Antoine that I have no intention to do anything else.”

Lucien left the roof of the building via the fire escape, leaving Rick with a still bleeding Antoine.

Rick looked down at the man in his arms. He was still bleeding and starting to lose colour. He was tempted to just leave Antoine up here and act like he’d never seen him. Rick didn’t have time to tend to a dying ex-teammate he’d hoped to never see again. He had a job to do.

Then again, his target probably fled when cops showed up, too.

Rick sighed and headed for the fire escape, supporting Antoine. He looked down the ladder, then at Antoine. “I’m not gonna be able to carry you down, mate.”

Antoine just groaned.   
  


\---  
  


“I swear to God I’m gonna punch _your_ nose in if you don’t leave me alone!” Jeremy snapped. Lucien had been following him for a couple blocks now, several feet behind him.   
  
“You’re not going anywhere, you’re wandering.” Lucien pointed out. “I’m not leaving you alone out here.”

Lucien had played this game before. When Jeremy was upset, too upset to go home, he’d wander the streets until he found someone to let out his frustration on. Often he would brawl with another boy from his neighbourhood, an old bully usually, until someone had broken something. But these streets weren’t his streets. There weren’t any boys out here like him; there were men. Dangerous men that wouldn’t settle for a black eye after being provoked.

“Why not? What, you think I’m still a helpless kid, you think I can’t take care of myself?” Jeremy stopped and shot around, almost letting Lucien bump into him. “I don’t need you. I don’t need any of my brothers, I don’t even need my _ma,_ and I sure as hell don’t need _him!”_   
  
“I never said you needed anyone.” Lucien pointed out. Jeremy could _sort of_ take care of himself, sure, but right now he was just upset about… well, everything. Antoine invading his privacy was just the straw that broke Jeremy’s back. “I said I’m going to continue following you until you’re home safe.”

“God, would you… Would you quit trying to be a _parent?_ Last thing I need right now is another dad.”

“I am _not_ your father.” Lucien said, taken aback by the… insult. “And at no point have I ever tried to be a ‘parent’ to you. I have never tried to act like some missing relative, I’m just your _friend._ If you believe I’m trying to be anything else, it’s your imagination lying to you. Stop acting so defensive-- I am not criticizing you or trying to tell you what to do. I am just trying to make sure you eventually return home in one piece. Now you can walk around the block again and I’ll continue to follow, or we could actually go somewhere until you’ve calmed down.”

It was hard not to just keep walking. Jeremy didn’t want to talk, didn’t want to listen, he just… wanted to move. Wanted to run around or fight somebody or something. But as much as he said he wanted to be alone, he really never minded Lucien’s company, and… well, he was mostly wandering right now because he was really fucking lost.  
  
“If you’re gonna suggest another club, I’m not in the mood.”   
  
“I wasn’t.” Lucien said. “The police are probably raiding the others around here anyway.” He stopped to think. There wasn’t much else around here besides visit theatres, more clubs, video stores and so on. “I did see one diner around the corner.”   
  
“You’re paying.” Jeremy said, and started walking in the direction he came from.

  
\---

 

Rick had considered leaving Antoine to bleed to death on the roof. He really didn't feel like trying to carry his dead weight down a fire escape and take him to… Who was he supposed to bring Antoine to again? Clarissa? Carmella? He'd ask Antoine if the man wasn't dying from a broken nose. The only reason Rick didn't leave Antoine there is because he thought he might be useful. Rick was here for work, and Antoine might have some information about his latest target.

So, Rick dragged the spy to the fire escape, looked and listened for any cops still around, then glanced back to Antoine. The spy seemed to be floating in and out of consciousness, his shirt as red as his jacket, soaked in blood. “Can you climb down yourself?” Rick asked him. He only got a short groan in reply.

Rick sighed. There was no way he'd be able to carry another man down the ladder without falling onto the concrete below. He had two options; a) he could always change his mind and leave Antoine to bleed to death after all, or b) toss his body in the nearby dumpster and hope the impact is soft enough that nothing else breaks.

“Sorry, mate.”

Rick didn't have a whole lot of upper body strength, but he gave it a shot anyway. He tried and failed to lift Antoine high before throwing his body down to the dumpster. His torso made it, but his knees hit metal and Antoine let out a pained groan. Rick winced at the sound of the impact.

The sniper climbed down the ladder before pulling Antoine out of the dumpster and half dragging half carrying him out the alley and down the street to his van; a Land Rover forward-control camper van with faded green paint.

Rick opened the passenger door and set Antoine down in the front seat, swearing when Antoine almost fell on him. The sniper propped him up before pulling the seatbelt across his chest and buckling him in. Antoine was barely conscious now, and it was strange to see him so beaten by a kid. Jeremy really did a number on him.

Rick started the van and drove away. He didn't know who Cassandra was or where she lived, so he headed for the hospital instead, surprised he even remembered where that was. In the parking lot near the emergency wing, he looked over at Antoine again. The spy was breathing slowly, pale where Rick could see his face.

Rick sighed and got out of the van. He really didn't want to take Antoine into the hospital. He could probably leave him in the parking lot, someone would see him eventually and take him into the hospital. He’d be fine.

Rick had to act before he changed his mind. He pulled Antoine out of his seat and sat him on the concrete against a wheel before locking his van up. Rick glanced around to see if there were any hospital staff outside to take Antoine off his hands. No one but a nurse smoking exactly 30 feet away from the doors.

Rick lifted Antoine off the ground, pulling his arm over his shoulders as he walked him over to the nurse. She saw them before they were even close and started running to meet them halfway, concern on her face. No, wait, that wasn't concern, it was… rage?

“What the _flying fuck,_ Antoine?” Cassandra nearly shrieked, startling Rick. How many people in Boston knew this asshole?

“He, uh…” Rick mumbled, “He can't talk, he's barely conscious. Bled a lot.”

“I can see that, what the hell happened? Where's Jeremy?” Cassandra snapped at Rick now. She had no idea who this man was; but judging from the weird knife at his belt, the gun on his back and the foreign accent, he probably knew Antoine through work.

“Jeremy…?” Rick blanked out for a second, then he remembered. “Oh, the kid. He's fine, he's with… a coworker. Antoine knows him. Uh…” Rick glanced at Antoine awkwardly. He was already regretting not leaving him on the rooftop. “Can you just take him so I can go?”

“Absolutely not! Bring him inside, you gotta tell me what happened. Don’t even think about leaving out any details.”

Rick sighed.

 

\---

 

“Like, I’ve met a ton of bad dads, but he’s the worst. There is not a single guy out there that’s a worse dad than he is.” Jeremy said. “I mean he hasn't hit me or nothing--not _yet_ anyway--but who the fuck goes looking through their kid’s things like that? Ma would never do that, even if she knows we're hiding something. But not only did he look through my room, he had to have looked all over the house to find my sketchbooks in the first place. I had 'em locked up in the storage room.”

“He never did tell you what he does for a living, did he?” Lucien changed the subject a little. He could correct the boy, tell him that Antoine was far from the worst, but he didn’t want to. As far as he was concerned, Jeremy might as well think Antoine was the worst parent. He was certainly worst lover in Lucien’s eyes.

They were the only two in the diner besides the waitress behind the counter, reading the paper as she waited for the clock to strike 2 A.M. so she could close shop and go home.

“He does whatever you do. Which you still haven’t told me.” Jeremy said, finishing off the rest of his coffee. That was the third or fourth cup already, and all the caffeine was beginning to take effect. While most people were revved up by it, Jeremy was calmed by it, and no longer wanted to punch something.

“What makes you say that?” Lucien asked.  
  
“You’re both French and dress fancy.” Jeremy said, then rolled his eyes when Lucien didn’t get the sarcasm. “You both know each other somehow, and that Australian guy. And Antoine’s got that weird mask; you used to wear one just like it. And you literally said you were co-workers.”

The boy was a loudmouth and couldn’t keep secrets about anyone other than himself, but Lucien supposed he had to tell him _something,_ if only to keep him from asking more.   
  
“Yes, we are in the same line of work. We’re spies, simple as that.” Lucien was going to regret telling him this later. He took out his pack of cigarettes again, offering one to Jeremy, who surprisingly declined.   
  
“Yeah, spies, okay. Like, spies for the French government or something?”   
  
“God, no.” Lucien lit his cigarette. They weren’t supposed to smoke in here, but the waitress didn’t seem to care if he did. “Right now, we don’t work for anyone. We’re spies for hire. Mercenaries.”   
  
“Mercenaries?” Jeremy was immediately attentive. There were very few jobs he was interested in, and all of them involved making comics and fighting people. Everyone and their mothers told him he’d never make a living drawing comics, and he had to wait another year and a half before he could join the military.   
  
Lucien heard the eager tone in the boy’s voice. The intrigue, the wanting, the hope. Not good. “Yes. But believe me, you wouldn’t want to be one.”   
  
“Are you kidding? I wouldn’t even have to be a spy, I could just beat the shit outta people for a living, right? I mean I’ve thought about it, but had no idea how to become one. But _you_ know, don’t you?”   
  
Well, at least he wasn’t upset anymore. Just dangerously excited. Maybe Lucien should loop back somehow.   
  
“You would have to be a spy.” He was lying, but it was for Jeremy’s own good. “It took Antoine and I ten years before we could really work. A decade at a harsh and incredibly _expensive_ academy.”   
  
“Nah, I could just beat the shit outta people for money. It’d be easy, I already know how to fight.”   
  
The word ‘expensive’ should have immediately turned Jeremy off, but it didn’t. That only worried Lucien more. “It is not easy. It is incredibly dangerous. You could die at any moment.”   
  
“I can already die at any moment.” Jeremy pointed out.   
  
They needed to get off topic immediately.   
  
“Anyway…” Lucien sighed. “As I was saying, your father and I are spies. Our work takes us all over the world, which is why he was out of your life for such a long time.” Bringing this up would only make Jeremy angry again, probably. But it was preferable. Lucien could handle Jeremy when he was angry, but no one could handle him when he was determined enough to do something stupid.   
  
From the look on Jeremy’s face, it seemed to have worked. “Are you kidding? All that time and he couldn’t even call or something? You’ve been seeing me at least once a week ever since we met, what’s his excuse?”   
  
“I don’t know. I don’t know the details. And there’s only so much I’m allowed to tell you.” Lucien paused to take a long drag before exhaling. He shouldn’t have brought any of this up, but it was too late now. “You would have to ask him that yourself.”   
  
“I already asked. I asked him what he does for a living and he refused to tell me.” Well, not unless he told Antoine what he did too, but that wasn’t going to happen. Too many people knew he was a pizza. “I don’t even care what he does or why he left, I just wish he stayed gone.”   
  
“You don’t mean that.” Lucien said. And before Jeremy could retort; “You’re just disappointed he’s not Tom Jones.”   
  
“He SHOULD be Tom Jones!” Jeremy shouted loud enough for the waitress to look up from her paper. “Do you have any idea how many kids he’s had? How many ladies he’s slept with? He refuses to do DNA tests ‘cause he knows all those kids are his, and my ma said she went to one of his concerts an--”   
  
“Jeremy.” Lucien had to interrupt him. “Tom Jones is not your father.”   
  
“--AND she got with him. My ma slept with Tom Jones and had me nine months later!”   
  
“That means nothing, Jeremy.” He wasn’t even going to argue about the fact that Cassandra had slept with Tom Jones around the time she could have conceived Jeremy, because that would mean he’d have to explain that Antoine was there too.   
  
“Antoine is your father. It’s disappointing. He’s a disappointment, I know. Believe me, I _know._ It’s just something you have to live with now. And he’s not as bad as some of the fathers you’ve met.” Was he really defending Antoine right now? No, of course not, he was just giving Jeremy a reality check. Not being the worst didn’t mean much.   
  
“I’m closing the place in ten minutes.” The waitress called to them before getting up to go into the kitchen.   
  
Jeremy was uncharacteristically quiet now.   
  
Lucien put his cigarette out in a half-finished cup of coffee before taking out his wallet. “This may be hard to believe since I stopped you from killing him, but I hate him too.” He left more than enough cash on the table before getting up. “I’ve hated him since before you were born, and he’s hated me. We have history that I’m not willing to discuss in detail, so don’t ask. I’m only telling you this because returning to this city, to you and your mother, is the most admirable thing the man’s done in years. I’m not saying you should be grateful, just that it was… unexpected.”   
  
He went to leave the diner, and Jeremy followed him outside. 

“So, what, you’re saying even you think I should give him a chance?” Jeremy asked. It wasn’t a remark, like of course he shouldn’t give the man a chance. It was a genuine question.  
  
“I don’t know. Maybe. I’m tired. Tonight has been tiring. I’m going to take you home.”   
  
“I’m not going home yet.” Jeremy said.   
  
Lucien sighed. The boy had a few cups of coffee and chocolate chip pancakes, he shouldn’t be difficult anymore. “It’s almost two in the morning.”   
  
“Yeah, and I don’t wanna go home. I don’t wanna see ma or any of my brothers or _him_ right now.”   
  
Lucien looked at him. “You want me to offer to let you stay with me for the night.” Or what was left of it.   
  
“Maybe.”   
  
“I only have one bed, Jeremy.” Lucien pointed out.   
  
“You got a couch?”  
  
“Would you believe me if I said no?”   
  
“I’ll take the floor, I really don’t care. I’ve slept outside before.”

Another sigh. “Fine. But you have to call your mother first thing in the morning.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you didn't know, Jeremy's job is a reference to Nathan Vetterlein's AMA video (part 3) where he answers questions as the Scout. I don't think I can post a link here, but it's easy to find on Youtube (they're hilarious, I highly recommend watching). 
> 
> As an aspiring author, feedback and criticism is always appreciated! Thanks for reading, hope you liked it!


End file.
